


my solitude ain't the same no more

by louisnights



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Captain Liam, Cop Zayn, Detective Louis Tomlinson, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, No Smut, Receptionist niall, Strangers to Lovers, Trans Harry Styles, Violence, just a reminder that this is pure fiction so acab, psychic louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25752472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisnights/pseuds/louisnights
Summary: Louis is a traveling homicide detective who goes to the small town of Holmes Chapel to investigate the murder of a young woman.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 92





	my solitude ain't the same no more

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from tender by alayna.
> 
> I'm actually pretty proud of how this fic turned out. 
> 
> tumblr url: zouissupremacy

Louis drives down the long highway, towards his next case. He’s being hit with various levels of deja-vu throughout the whole trip from London.

He doesn’t like flying, prefers the feeling of being able to drive himself everywhere, prefers being able to stop anywhere for a good cuppa, although that’s hard to find these days. He hasn’t had a good cup of tea in three days, and he’s really feeling the deprivation kicking in.

He grabs his voice recorder, clicking the red button on the side to start it. “Helen, this is Louis Tomlinson speaking,” Louis checks his wrist watch. “It is approximately 12:37 PM on a Monday afternoon. It’s January 11th 1984 and I am almost to my destination to Holmes Chapel. I will be staying at The Styles’ Lodge. I have never seen so many trees on one highway before, and it’s real beautiful, I must say, Helen.”

Louis drives past the sign welcoming him to Holmes Chapel, and smiles. “I am driving into Holmes Chapel now, I do hope I find a great cuppa here somewhere, as I’ve been deprived of it for exactly three days now. It’s really a shame, Helen, that I couldn’t find a good cuppa of some Yorkshire back in Birmingham. That has been my update, Helen.”

He clicks the button on the side of the device again, effectively ending his voice recording. He hums a tune that he’s had stuck in his head for the past few days as he drives. He truly does think it’s a beautiful day, the sky is bright and the clouds are shaped like various animals.

He parks the car in front of the Holmes Chapel police office, grabbing his voice recorder and shoving it into the pocket of his trousers. The small heels of his fancy black loafers click on the concrete as he walks into the station, right up to the receptionist desk where a handsome young man sits. “Good Afternoon, son, I am here to see Captain Payne.”

“Of course, sir,” The boy says, and Louis can’t quite place his accent. “What’s your name, sir?”

“Oh, my manners,” Louis chuckles, reaching into the breast pocket of his black pea coat for his badge. “I’m Detective Tomlinson.”

The boy just gives a smile and nods, reaching for his office phone and pressing a button. “There’s a Detective Tomlinson here for you.” He nods into the receiver once, “uh huh.” Then he hangs up. 

“He’ll be here soon, he says.”

“Lovely,” Louis replies. He notices the sofa and tiny coffee table situated behind him and sits down, grabbing the first magazine he sees. He flips through it, enjoying the muscles he can see on those male models, although he wouldn’t say so to anyone. 

He’s in the middle of a quiz about which member of Wham! Is the man of his dreams when the door to the building opens, revealing a man in uniform walking in briskly. He’s wearing a round brown hat, matching the beige of his uniform. He walks right up to where Louis is, sticking out a hand. “Detective Tomlinson, so nice to meet you, so sorry to have kept you waiting.”

Louis puts his half-finished quiz away on the coffee table, mourning the fact that he’ll never know if George Michael is truly the man for him, or not. He smiles back at the man, taking his hand and shaking it. “Hi, It’s no bother. You’re Captain Payne, I assume?”

“Yes, yes,” Captain Payne says, retrieving his hand. “You can follow me into my office, I’ll show you the details of the case so far.”

“Well, you found the body two days ago, yes?” Louis asks. 

Captain Payne nods sadly. “Yes, tragic really. She was really universally loved by everyone here. A massive loss to the town.”

“I’m sure,” Louis says sympathetically. “Take me to the morgue. I’d like to see the body, and the autopsy report.”

“You want to see the body?” Captain Payne’s eyebrows go up to his hairline, as if the thought of it hadn’t even crossed his mind. Louis knows small town cops aren’t really used to these kinds of cases happening in their towns, so he can imagine the shock. 

“Yes, I  _ am _ a homicide Detective, and I find that actually seeing the body helps me solve the cases faster,” Louis replies. He gestures to the main entrance door. “You show me the file on the way there?”

“Yes,” Captain Payne nods. “I’ll do that. Let me just go get the file and then we can leave.” With that, he jogs past the receptionist desk, going deeper into the station. Louis walks outside, waiting at the truck that he assumes is the Captain’s.

\-----

Louis read the entire file in the car, getting acquainted with all the details. They haven’t found out a lot, since they've only been on the case for two days.

He’s read the autopsy, and it makes his heart hurt how much this poor girl suffered. Her life ending in tragedy, leaving her friends and family to grieve without knowing why or how it even happened. 

Louis grabs the voice recorder from his pocket, pressing the button on the side. “Helen, I am standing here in front of the body of Alice Speck. She was approximately twenty years old. Cause of death ruled a homicide, a gaping wound on the side of her skull, bruises on her neck and shoulders, as well as some Cocaine found in her system. Her body was found in the river, wrapped in black trash bags. Her body was found clean, no dirt or blood anywhere on her.”

Louis grabs the folder containing the crime scene photos, looking through them quickly. “She was found wearing a pink satin nightgown, light blue underwear and no bra. Her feet were bare, no signs of foul play there. Oh, Helen, this poor girl.”

He looks through the crime scene photos again, sighing. “These were not her clothes originally. Her killer must’ve put her in them post-mortem, the only sign of remorse I can find, is that her hands were crossed across her chest when she was found, making her look quite peaceful in death.”

He stops recording, putting the recorder back into his pocket. He looks at the body again, committing her to memory before her family is allowed to bury her. He’s just about to leave when he notices it, a slight indentation on the middle finger of her right hand. 

His vision blurs, a headache coming in so quick he loses his breath. His mind flashes in images, a ring. A lavender diamond in the middle of it, silver. The delicate hand adorning the ring clutching at someone’s arm, he can’t tell if it’s the left arm or right arm, it flashes by so quick, a tattoo of a snake on his peck.

“-linson?” 

Louis snaps out of it, his headache disappearing, leaving only a slight ache in it’s memory. Captain Payne stands in the doorway, looking worried. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

Louis nods, clearing his throat and loosening his tie. “I’m okay, Captain. Just a little lightheaded from making the trip. Could go for a warm cuppa, if I’m honest.”

“Are you staying at The Styles’ Lodge?” 

“Yeah,” Louis says. He grabs the folder he’d dropped earlier, following Captain Payne out of the room. “It seems that’s the only hotel I could find in these parts.”

“It’s a good place,” Captain Payne says, smiling. “My uncle owns the place. He’s great, his name is Desmond.”

“Oh good, do you think you could drop me off at the station to recover my car?” Louis asks. 

Captain Payne smiles. “Of course, give my regards to Des if you see him, please.”

“Of course.” Louis replies. He just wants to have a hopefully good cuppa, and figure out what he saw in his vision, what it means.

\-----

His suitcase is heavy, and he regrets packing that third suit. He has no idea how long he’ll be in this town, how long it’ll take him to solve this case, to bring the killer to justice. 

He walks up to the reception desk, dropping his suitcase down on the floor, letting it land with a soft thud. “Good afternoon, I’m Louis Tomlinson, here for my room.”

The woman behind the desk gives him a smile. Louis thinks she’s pretty, like she should be working as a model instead of a hotel reception desk in a small town like Holmes Chapel. Her hair is blonde, reaching down to her shoulders, and she’s got a dimple in her left cheek. Her name tag reads ‘Gemma’. If Louis were into women, he would lay on the charm, but he’s not, so he just waits patiently as she types it into the computer. 

“Sorry, sir, the computer is brand new, but it’s very slow,” Gemma says apologetically. Louis just smiles and waves it away with a flick of his wrist. “It’s no problem, love, I’m not in a hurry.”

“So what brings you to Holmes Chapel?” Gemma asks. She bites her lip. “If I may ask, that is.”

“You may,” Louis chuckles, then lets his smile die down. “I wish I were here under better circumstances, but I’m here to help with a police investigation. I’m Detective Tomlinson.” Louis reaches into his breast pocket, taking out his badge and handing it to Gemma.

She stares at it, her mouth opening in slight shock. “Oh.” she hands it back, and her demeanor is a lot more subdued. Louis clears his throat. “You knew her, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” She smiles sadly. “She was my brother’s best friend. Can I ask, though, aren’t you a little young to be a Detective?”

“A little, yes,” Louis smiles softly. “I’m only twenty-five. Just made detective six months ago.”

“Congratulations,” Gemma says, smiling. She looks back at the computer screen. “Oh good, you’re in room 28, it’s upstairs.”

She hands him the key and Louis thanks her. Before he leaves, he grabs one of his cards out of his pocket. “I’m sorry for your loss, and here’s my card should you ever need anything.”

“Thank you,” She blushes, grabbing the card. 

\-----

After depositing everything in his room and freshening up in the bathroom, he leaves to find the dining hall, needing to find himself a cuppa. He’s waited for it all day, and he needs it before he meets Captain Payne back at the station.

The dining room isn’t that big, just about six tables scattered around the room with four chairs around them, and a counter containing shelves of ready-made meals. 

He grabs a sandwich, ham and cheese, and a cup of coffee. He really wants some tea, but the coffee will have to do for now.

He sits down at a table near the back of the room, up to the window. He tries to think about what he saw, what he felt when he got hit with that ring memory.

Or vision. Whatever he calls it, that's what it's boiled down to.

He has had dreams, and visions, ever since he was a little boy. He was around ten years old when he had a dream about his mum giving birth, and she had gone to the doctor the next day, where it had been confirmed that she was pregnant with her third child.

His dreams aren't always as innocent as a pregnancy premonition. Sometimes they're bad omens, warning him about something out of his control.

And sometimes he gets hit with something during his waking hours, something that triggers his third eye, as he likes to call it.

Like that slight indentation on Alice Speck's finger. 

"My sister told me that a handsome detective was here to investigate Alice's murder," Louis is snapped out of his thoughts, making eye contact with a slender boy, with broad shoulders and shoulder-length curly hair. His eyes are green, and full of what Louis can only describe as sadness with a hint of curiosity. The boy sits down across from him. "I didn't believe her."

Louis grabs his sandwich, taking his first bite of it. It tastes bland. "And you must be the receptionist's brother."

"I am."

Louis takes a long sip of his coffee, welcoming the bitter taste of it. He studies the boy in front of him. He's wearing a red plaid shirt, a white tee under it. His blue jeans are tattered and ripped in places, almost purposefully so. He's wearing old boots, brown and feminine. 

He's also wearing the same ring as Alice. 

Louis puts down his coffee, reaching into his breast pocket for his notepad and a ballpoint pen. "Can I ask you a few questions?"

"Sure," The boy shrugs, grabbing Louis' coffee and taking a sip. He wrinkles his nose. "Gross."

Louis blinks. "You know it's considered rude to take a sip of other people's drinks?"

The boy just shrugs. "I felt like it."

"How old are you?" Louis asks. "And what's your name?"

"My name's Harry. I'm twenty-one."

"Okay, Harry," Louis writes that information down on his notepad. He can tell that Harry's intimidated by him, or at least, he's curious. 

He points at Harry's hand. "That ring. Where'd you get it?"

"Alice gave it to me," Harry says, looking down at his hands. His shoulders slump as he starts fiddlin with it. "She has a matching one."

"About Alice," Louis isn't the best at interviewing loved ones of victims, as he is always afraid of saying something he shouldn't, but with Harry, he finds himself softening his voice. "Is there anyone you can think of that might have wanted to hurt her?"

"No," Harry sniffs, and he looks up. His eyes are slightly wet, so Louis reaches for his napkin and hands it to him. Harry takes it gratefully. "She was kind, and funny, and everything a friend should be. She was the first person to know me, truly, and accept me for who I am. She got into trouble sometimes, sure, but everybody loved her."

"What kind of trouble?"

"She went to parties, slept around," Harry says, wiping his eyes with the napkin. "Come to think of it, there was one night. She climbed into my bedroom window, and she had some bruises on her arms. I asked her what happened and she just laughed at me. Called me a goody, told me not to worry about it. I think she was high, but she did stay the night. She seemed off, somehow, though."

"Off, how?"

"Like, scared but trying to hide it?" Harry frames his statement as a question, unsure. "She held onto me pretty tightly, even after she fell asleep."

"When was this?" Louis asks. 

"About a week before she died, so about ten days ago."

"I have to ask you this," Louis takes another sip of his now cold coffee, grimacing. "Were you two involved? Romantically?"

"No," Harry shakes his head, letting out a laugh. "We tried once, though. We kissed, but we both felt it was too incestuous, she was like my sister."

"And you can't think of anyone that she was seeing?"

"She was real secretive about this one guy she was sleeping with," Harry says, frowning. "Which was weird cause she always tells me everything."

Louis nods. He debates it internally, but decides to go for it anyway. "Can you think of anyone in this town who has a snake tattoo on their chest?"

"No, I don't think so."

Oh well, Louis thought it was worth a shot. Can't be that easy, can it?

He checks the time on his wristwatch, sighing. He was supposed to meet up with Captain Payne five minutes ago.

He grabs one of his cards, sliding it across the table towards Harry. "That's my card, if you need anything, just call me."

Louis grabs his dish, throwing away his half-eaten sandwich and gulping down the rest of his coffee. He notices that Harry's still sitting there. He's looking down at his ring, twirling it slowly around his finger. Louis can only imagine his grief.

He walks up to him. "Harry."

Harry looks up, quickly wiping his tears away. "Yeah?"

Louis squeezes his shoulder. "I am truly sorry for your loss. I'm going to find whoever did this."

Harry puts his hand on top of Louis’, holding it for a few seconds before he lets go. "Thank you, Detective."

"Please," Louis says. "Call me Louis."

He gives the boy a small smile before turning around and leaving. He can feel Harry's eyes boring into his back.

\-----

Captain Payne is eating a donut when Louis walks into the conference room, twenty minutes late.

Captain Payne points at a box of donuts at the end of the long table. "Help yourself."

"Is this a true stereotype, then?" Louis teases, grabbing one supposedly filled with jelly. "Cops with donuts?"

Captain Payne giggles, letting out a HA!. "You're funny. Don't let Zayn hear you say that, though, he's supposed to be the funniest cop around."

"Who's the funniest cop around?" A man asks, walking into the room with his arms full of beige folders. He drops them onto the table with a huff. "The Specks will be here in about ten minutes."

"Good," Louis says, putting his half eaten donut on the table. He reaches out his other hand, that doesn't have sticky powdered sugar on his fingers. "I'm Detective Tomlinson, I'm here to help you solve the case."

"What you mean is," The man takes his hand, squeezing softly before letting go. "Is that you're here to solve it for us small town cops?"

"That's what my boss wants me to do, yes." 

The man laughs, loud and bright. "You can stay. I'm Zayn."

"Very nice to meet you, Zayn," Louis says, grabbing the rest of his donut to finish it. As he chews, Zayn chuckles as he stares at him. Louis quirks an eyebrow.

"You look like a chipmunk when you chew, that's all."

Louis huffs, rolling his eyes. He sits down, grabbing the first folder he can reach. "What are these, then?"

"The files on all of Alice Speck's friends, family, and friends' family," Captain Payne says, grabbing one for himself. "Well, only the ones that got into trouble."

"Those are at least thirty different files," Louis remarks, grabbing the pile so he can look for a specific name. He doesn't find one for Harry anywhere. "Did Harry not get into any trouble?"

"You've spoken to Harry?" Zayn asks, taking the files off Louis' hands to look through the names himself. Louis just nods. "I met him briefly in the dining hall, asked a few questions."

Zayn slaps down a rather thick file in front of Louis, the name scrawled at the top saying 'Harriet E. Styles'. 

"Harriet?"

"He hasn't had his name legally changed yet," Captain Payne says. He points at the file. "His father won't approve of it."

"Why not?" Louis asks, although he knows the answer. Harry's father doesn't approve of his gender identity, Louis can gather that much.

"His father doesn't approve of his," Zayn makes air quotations with his fingers. "'Daughter's lifestyle.' Bullshit if you ask me, Harry should be able to be who he is regardless of what his father thinks."

"Unfortunately," Louis chimes in. "The law doesn't agree."

Zayn narrows his eyes, sitting down next to Captain Payne, across from Louis. "You have something against Harry?"

Louis startles at the amount of venom laced in Zayn's voice. It's not common to meet people with the same opinions as he has, that Queer people deserve the same rights as everyone else. He clears his throat, embarrassed at having even made the impression that he doesn't. "I know the law. Doesn't mean I agree with it."

"Good," Zayn mutters, standing down. He grabs a folder at random. "Let's start this damn research."

Captain Payne follows suit, grabbing a folder and opening it up. Louis takes a minute to observe. He'd like to think he's right in his judgement of character, but from what he's noticed in the brief time he's known these two men, it's that they're bent. Just like Louis himself is, and it's not like they're obvious.

Louis just knows things. He's known ever since Zayn walked into the room that the Captain is in love with him, and that it's mutual.

They're sitting quite closely as well, and Louis gives them the courtesy of pretending not to notice. He knows that they've yet to discover Louis' own sexuality.

He opens up the folder in front of him, labelled Harriet E. Styles. The picture is old, probably from around 1979, when Harry must've been about 17 years old. He's wearing makeup, a flowery dress with a white cardigan, long curly hair reaching down past his shoulders. He's come a long way from the person in the picture.

Since 1978 Harry has been caught under the influence of weed, alcohol and one time, cocaine. Each time, he was caught with his best friend, Alice Speck. They were caught stealing condoms out of the local convenience store at 1 PM in 1980, after that the record tapers off.

"Harry and Alice were trouble makers, then?" Louis asks, closing the folder. "He's got quite the rap sheet, yet done no time. Why is that?"

"His dad bailed him out each time, he was given court-mandated rehab as you can see in the file," Captain Payne explains. "It was that or jail time. He chose rehab."

"And he hasn't been caught doing anything since?"

"No. He's been clean ever since. No drugs, no alcohol. I don't think I've seen him so much as touch a cigarette since."

Speaking of, Louis could really go for one right about now. He looks through a couple more folders, not finding anything of interest, just some petty thefts and drunken misdemeanors. 

He gets up after a while, stretching his shoulders as he glances at the clock on the wall. It's just past 10 PM. He sighs. "I'm going out for a fag."

Walking out into the crisp night air is refreshing. The moon is beautiful, full and bright in the dark sky. He grabs the pack of Marlboro Reds out of his left side pocket and lights up, inhaling the smoke as deep as it can go and holding it in.

He lets the smoke out slowly, feeling calm. He knows he should stop smoking, but it's a vice that he can't afford to let go of. Not in his line of work. Not with his dreams.

It's peaceful out here, nothing like back home in London. He's not used to the silence, no traffic, no nothing. Just the refreshingly clean air and a clear night sky, showing him more stars than he's seen in a while.

It's been years since he left Doncaster, without looking back. He finds himself missing it, knows he should call or visit his family, but he can't. Not yet.

Not until he's ready to tell them the truth of who he is.

He finds those thoughts too depressing for this atmosphere, so as he takes his last puff, he exhales all the bad thoughts with the smoke. He's got a case to focus on, no need to focus on the past.

When he's back in the station, Zayn and Captain Payne are arguing quietly in the conference room, their whisper yelling looking quite comical. 

Louis drags his chair loudly back from the table, announcing his presence in the room. "What's this then?"

"Nothing," Zayn mutters harshly, glaring daggers at Captain Payne. 

Captain Payne pouts down at the table, looking so much like a kicked puppy that Louis can't help but feel bad for him. 

He doesn't want to get involved in this, whatever it is, so he grabs the last folder and opens it up. 

Immediately, Louis gets hit with a bad vibe, coming in waves from just the picture of the man. He studies him, and he looks normal. Neatly cropped hair, a nice smile, a normal shirt. But his eyes. They look empty.

He picks up the picture, throwing it on the table so it lands in front of Zayn and Captain Payne. "Who's this?"

"That's Rob," Captain Payne says, grabbing the picture. "He's Desmond's brother. He helps manage the hotel business, whenever he's in town."

"What can you tell me about him?" Louis asks.

"He's pretty normal, I guess," Captain Payne shrugs. "Everybody loves him. He's great. The only reason we even have him on file is because he was once falsely accused of beating up his girlfriend. She fell down the stairs."

"And you're sure it was a false accusation?"

"Why wouldn't it be?"

"Because the guy is a creep?" Zayn says, framing it more as a statement than a question. 

Captain Payne rolls his eyes. "Not this again, he's my uncle, ba- buddy. I know him, he wouldn't beat anybody up, much less his bird."

Louis clears his throat, pretending not to have noticed that tiny slip up of Captain Payne's. "Can I ask you a weird question?"

"Sure."

"Can you think of anyone with a snake tattoo on their chest?"

"Why?" Zayn asks, chuckling. "Are you thinking of getting one?"

"No," Louis replies. "I already have a chest piece, don't need another."

"You have a tattoo?" Zayn's eyes widen. Louis guesses that tattoos aren't common in Holmes Chapel.

"Yeah," Louis shrugs. "It's the only ink I have. Now, can you think of anyone?"

"No," Captain Payne shakes his head. "If somebody here has a chest tattoo, we wouldn't know. Tattoos are sort of taboo in this town, unfortunately."

"That's too bad," Louis sighs. He gets up, running a hand through his hair. "I'm gonna turn in, I'll see you tomorrow, bright and early."

They share handshakes, and then Louis leaves.

\------

_ He sits down on my bed, and pats the spot next to him. I'm scared, but I love him. He's family. He wouldn't hurt me, would he? _

_ He knows that I know, though. It's hard for me to know he killed her.  _

_ He tells me to sit down. I sit. _

_ There's a flash of movement, I'm on the floor, he straddles me, goes to choke me. I grab at his shirt, ripping two buttons of it open. A flash of a black snake tattoo on his right pectoral.  _

_ The air in my lungs starts to fade, it's hard to breathe. As I go to clutch at his arm, for something to grab, my ring glints in the light. _

Louis gasps awake, turning on the lamp quickly. He's sweating, his back wet through his t-shirt. He gets up, running through to the bathroom so he can take a cold shower.

He hates the dreams. 

He shivers as the cold water runs down his back, but he welcomes it. It helps him wake up fully, gets a little adrenaline pumping in his veins.

Closing his eyes, he leans his forehead on the tiled wall, trying to make sense of the dream.

He knows the killer is most likely Alice's secret lover, but he has no idea how to find him. It appears as if she didn't tell anyone about him. Not her family, not her friends, and most certainly not her best friend.

He sighs, turning the water off. 

He's still shivering as he puts on his clothes, the full suit and tie. He knows it's way too early to be up, as it is only 6 AM, but he will use that time to go over the files again.

But first, he needs a cigarette.

\-----

The sky is dark, full of stars surrounding the moon. Louis stares up at it as he inhales the smoke, just enjoying the peace of the moment. Closing his eyes, he focuses on the almost silence, how the wind howls softly as it travels past.

The door behind him opens, disturbing his moment of peace. The person comes to a stop, sitting down next to him on the lawn chair. It’s Harry, looking sleep-rumpled and tired. He shivers, and Louis puts his cigarette to his lips, removing his coat and deftly pulling it around Harry’s shoulders.

He leans back into his chair. Letting the smoke out. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Harry replies, grabbing a cigarette from behind his ear and lighting it up. Louis looks away, back up at the sky. 

“You know,” Harry begins, letting the smoke out in a quick exhale. “Camel’s are way better than your Marlboro’s.”

“If you say so,” Louis says, putting his cigarette bud in the ashtray resting on the ground. “I’m not picky with fags.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Say what?”

“Fags.”

“That’s what they are,” Louis says, gesturing to the cigarettes. “That’s what I’ve always called ‘em.”

“It’s rude, though,” Harry says, putting his cigarette to his lips for another puff. Louis’ eyes travel down to his lips on their own accord, and he blinks. His lips are so puffy, and pink. Harry lets the smoke out through an ‘oh’ shape, licking his bottom lip afterwards. Louis removes his eyes, looking back up at the sky.

“Is that a gun?”

“What?”

Harry points to his hip. Louis looks down where his gun is nestled safely into his gun holster. He removes it from the holster, letting Harry see it better. “Yeah.”

“Do you like it?”

“The gun?” Louis asks, fastening it back into the holster. “Not particularly. Need it, though.”

“Have you ever had to shoot it?”

“Once,” Louis admits. He remembers that day, won’t ever forget it. “Shot a guy in his thigh. He had a hostage, though.”

“But you still feel bad about it.” 

Harry says it as a statement, not a question. Louis just nods, not denying it. He always believes that people aren’t inherently evil, just with varying levels of trauma that makes them desperate, that’s why he didn’t aim for the head, instead aiming for the thigh where he knew the man would survive, and he can only hope the man will be rehabilitated and learn from his mistakes. 

“You’re a good man, Detective Tomlinson,” Harry smiles warmly, taking Louis’ coat off and handing it to him. He starts to walk inside, and Louis grabs his hand softly. “You’re a real man, no matter what anyone tells you.”

Harry startles, mouth opening in shock as he stares at Louis. “You know?”

“Yes,” Louis says, letting go of Harry’s arm. “I saw your file. I saw everyone’s files. I just wanted you to know that you have my support.”

Harry sniffs, and Louis notices that his eyes have gone watery. Louis gets up from his seat, and Harry hugs him. 

Louis is a little surprised that Harry’s taller than him, but still burrows deep into Louis’ chest. He removes himself from Louis’ arms before he has a chance to return the hug, giving him a watery smile. “Thank you, Louis.”

Louis watches him leave, trying to ignore the pleasant warm feeling his own name on Harry’s lips makes him feel.

\-----

It hits him as he's walking back to his room. The ring.

"He killed  _ her _ ," Louis mutters. He slips his key into the lock, opening the door. He stops in his tracks.

There's only one person other than Alice who owns that ring.

Louis walks briskly out of his room. He has no idea where Harry's room is, doesn't have a clue how to find him.

He runs into the dining hall, scanning it quickly with his eyes, but there's no Harry in sight. He runs towards the reception, where a sleepy Gemma is setting up for the day. "Gemma, could you point me towards Harry's room?"

"Why?" Gemma asks, squinting her eyes. "What'd you want with my brother?"

"I just need to ask him a few questions, is all."

"He's on the third floor," Gemma says. "Room 38."

"Thanks," Louis mutters, giving her a fast smile before walking briskly towards the stairs, taking them two at a time.

By the time he's in front of Harry's door, his breaths are coming out in short spurts. He knocks on the door three times, then takes a step back in an effort to look more casual.

The door opens to reveal Harry, still in the same nightclothes he was wearing earlier, his curls in disarray, as if he had just woken up for a second time this morning.

He looks surprised, his eyebrows rising up towards his forehead. "Detective, what are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?"

Harry opens the door wider to let him in, and Louis immediately starts pacing in front of the bed upon entering. "I'm sorry to just barge in like this, but you see, I get these dreams."

Harry closes the door calmly, taking a seat on his bed and letting his eyes follow Louis as he paces back and forth. "Dreams?"

"Yes," Louis agrees, nodding frantically. "I have these dreams, these premonitions like I know what's supposed to happen before it happens and I had this dream last night. You were attacked, by Alice's killer, and you  _ know _ him. He has a snake tattoo on his chest, I can't seem to remember his face when I wake up, and now I'm worried about you, I don't want you to get hurt, because you're-"

"Wait!" Harry gets up, stopping his pacing with one firm hand on his chest. "You had a dream that I was attacked by someone I know. Why?"

"I don't know why I have these dreams," Louis says, sitting down on the bed and letting out a breath. "But I've been like this forever."

"No, I meant why was I attacked?" Harry clarifies, sitting down next to him.

“Because you knew he killed her,” Louis closes his eyes, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands. “I don’t know how to stop it.”

“I know who killed Alice? How?”

“You don’t know right now,” Louis says, hoping that Harry hears him through the muffling of his hands. “But you will figure it out, and he’s going to know you figured it out and he’s going to kill you.”

“I’m sure he’ll try,” Harry says, and he sounds so unafraid. “You won’t let that happen, though.”

“How can you be so sure?” Louis asks, finally looking up at Harry, who’s sitting much closer than he thought. “How can you trust me?”

"Detective," Harry starts, trailing off for a minute as he considers his words. He moves even closer, so their thighs are almost touching. "Louis…"

Louis blinks, just waiting patiently for whatever Harry wants to say, holding his breath. 

Harry reaches to touch his leg, just above the knee. "I just feel it in my gut. You'll save me."

Louis grabs Harry's hand, giving it a tight squeeze. "I'll save you." and as he says it, even if he doubts his own capability to make those words stand true, he almost believes it.

\------

After quite an eventful morning, Louis starts driving towards the police department, ready to find the next clues in the case.

He grabs his voice recorder. "Helen, today has been eventful and it's only just gone 8 A.M."

There are not many traffic lights in this down, so of course, Louis lands on red at one. "I worry deeply about Harry. I'm having dreams again, and I don't know how I will stop it. Harry's in danger until we can figure out who Alice Speck's killer is."

The light turns green, and Louis starts driving again. "The killer has large hands. He's older, probably approaching his forties, tall. He's got a snake tattoo on his right pectoral, a simple black one. He may or may not be related to Harry Styles."

Louis' thoughts are all over the place, so many swirling around in his head that he barely makes sense of what he's saying. He just wants to solve this case, wants to make sure Harry doesn't get hurt. He wants…

He shakes his head. Can't let his thoughts stray, not when his sole focus should be finding Alice's killer. He can do it.

He's got a good track record of solving cases, it's the reason he was promoted to the Homicide team, where he prefers to work on his own. It's the reason he accepted the traveling position. Nobody else wanted to travel whenever small-town police need help, so Louis counts himself lucky for it.

It gets exhausting sometimes, though. He has no time for himself anymore. Only has time for case after case after case. He knows he deserves a day off, hasn't had one in three years. He clears his throat. "Helen, we need to figure out where Harry falls in. We know Alice was his best friend, but we need to figure out Harry's connection to the killer. Why would the killer know Harry? Who was he? Did he meet Alice through Harry? Is he truly a relative or is he just a close family friend? I need to pull the records of all the staff and family working at The Styles Lodge."

After parking his car in front of the station, Louis walks in, imitating the confidence of a successful homicide detective as best as he can. He smiles at the receptionist, feeling bad that he hadn’t caught his name the day before. “Good morning.”

The man smiles up at him, bidding him a good morning back and Louis is disappointed about the lack of name tags in this precinct. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t catch your name yesterday.”

“It’s Niall, sir,” he says, smiling. “I’m sure a fit detective like yourself is too busy solving cases to learn the names of every receptionist he meets.”

“It’s just polite to know the names of the people I work with,” Louis banters back. “Otherwise I’d be a total knob.”

"Innit," Niall agrees. Louis gives him a nod before walking into the conference room, where Captain Payne is pouring over some files, reading intently.

"Good morning, Captain Payne," Louis greets, walking up to the kettle and pouring himself a coffee. "May I call you Liam?"

"Oh, yes, of course," Liam replies. He lifts up the folder. "I loathe to admit it, but I think I found something."

Louis sits down at the table across from him, sipping his coffee. "This is bloody good coffee. What did you find?"

"Robert Styles."

Louis gestures for him to go on with his hand. Liam flips a few pages in his folder. "He came in this morning and was interested in the case. A bit too interested if you ask me."

"You think he's a suspect?" Louis asks, taking the folder off of Liam's hand, going over every detail written on a couple of green post-it notes. "He had no alibi."

"He says he was in his room back at The Lodge."

"Can anyone corroborate that?" 

"No," Liam shakes his head, getting up from his seat to start pacing. "I called around, nobody can verify it. It's hard for me to believe that he could have done this, I've known him for a long time. But when he came here this morning, my gut told me it's him."

"Did you ask him anything else?" 

"Only the things on those post-it notes."

Louis goes over the post-it notes, grabbing his recorder and clicking it on. "Helen, it seems we have our first and only suspect. Robert John Styles, white male, forty two years old, works at The Styles Lodge part-time as a business manager. He's the uncle of Harry Styles, the victim's best friend."

He catches Liam's stare, but he continues as if he didn't. Many have judged him for the need to record important things, but it has helped him solve more than one case in the past, helps him make fewer mistakes.

"Suspect says he was at home, in his room at The Styles Lodge when the murder took place, but as he has no one to verify that, his alibi is not solid. He's got a record of a case that was dismissed. Battery and assault of his ex-girlfriend, Marie Hanson."

He stops recording, closing up the folder. He disposes of his coffee cup, clearing his throat. "Where can we find Marie Hanson?"

"She works at the bakery down the street from here," Liam says, grabbing his jacket from where it had been resting on the back of a chair. "Let's go, then."

Louis lets Liam lead the way towards the bakery, content to just enjoy the fresh air and the clear sky, only one little cloud in sight, shaped a little bit like a penis. Louis smirks to himself as he looks at it.

The bakery is small, just one room, the counter on the left side, and two tables on the right, next to the window overlooking the street. Louis gives the old lady behind the counter a big smile. "It's a beautiful morning, isn't it, love?"

The woman smiles brightly back at him. "That it is, young man, that it is. What can I get you, gentlemen?"

Liam opens his mouth to speak, and Louis stops him gently with a hand on his bicep, patting it. "I would love a cuppa Yorkshire, please, darling."

"Coming right up," The woman gives another smile, her eyes crinkling up in the corners. "Anything else?"

"Is Marie Hanson in?" Louis asks as he hands the woman his change for the tea. 

"And you are?" The woman asks, her demeanor shifting slightly. Before she was all smiley and bright, now she's only polite.

"Oh my apologies," Louis chuckles, reaching into the inner pocket of his coat. He flashes her the badge. "Detective Tomlinson, I would just like to ask Ms. Hanson a few questions."

The woman's smile comes back. "Oh what a handsome detective you make, darling. I am Rosie. You can go take a seat and I'll bring you that tea and Marie."

"Thanks, love."

Louis walks to one of the tables, taking a seat. Liam sits down across from him. "Rosie knows who I am, wonder why she was suspicious about us asking for Marie."

"We'll ask Marie."

They don’t have to wait long, as Marie appears a few minutes later. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

“Please,” Louis gestures to the empty seat next to Liam’s. “Sit down.”

Marie sits down cautiously. She bites her lip. “Rosie said you’re a detective. What’s this about?”

“It’s about your ex-boyfriend,” Louis begins, noticing Marie’s slight flinch at the mention of the man. “So it’s true then.” Louis says it more as a statement than a question. “He really did hurt you.”

“Yes,” Marie whispers, she bites her lip, fidgeting with the hem of her apron. “He had a temper, a really bad one. I wanted to get a restraining order when we broke up, but he moved out of town and I haven’t seen him since.”

“May I ask the reason for your break up?” Louis asks. He gives her a small encouraging smile, letting her know it’s okay if she’d rather let it go. She just nods. “He was cheating on me. I walked in on him with this girl, I think she must’ve been barely nineteen. Very young. I walked out and never looked back. He tried getting me back for a while, but my father didn’t let him near me.”

“Do you think he’s capable of murder?” Liam asks, out of nowhere. Louis looks up at him, shaking his head. “You don’t have to answer that, love.”

Marie’s eyes widen as she stares at Liam, her eyes shifting from Louis to Liam and then back to Louis. “You think he’s killed someone?”

“He’s a suspect,” Louis admits. Marie clears her throat quietly as she gets up from her seat. “I’ve got to go back to work but, Rob, I was scared of him for a reason. If he truly did kill some poor woman, it wouldn’t shock me.”

Louis gives her a nod. When she’s gone he swats Liam in the shoulder. “You should not have asked her that!”

“Why?” Liam asks, rubbing his upper arm. “It’s a valid question.

Louis scoffs. “There’s a certain amount of decorum you need to have when questioning people. You can’t just spring that question on her out of nowhere.”

Louis takes a long sip of his tea, closing his eyes as it pleasures his tastebuds. It’s truly the best cuppa he’s had in a while. He gets out of his seat as he remembers one thing he forgot to ask. “I’ll be right back, Liam.”

He leaves Liam at the table without waiting for a response. He gives Rosie a smile as he walks to the back of the bakery, seeing Marie kneading some dough on the counter. He clears his throat to announce his presence, and she startles. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, Marie. I’ve got one last question for you, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead,” She says, proceeding to knead the dough in her hands. 

“Does Robert have any tattoos?”

Marie stops kneading the dough, looking up at him. “How did you know that?”

“So he does have a tattoo?”

“Yes, but,” Marie’s eyebrows go up as she stares at him. “The only people who know about it, are the people he’s slept with.”

“Oh,” Louis coughs into his hand, feeling slightly hot under Marie’s gaze. “I can assure you, I did not sleep with Robert. I have to ask you, though, the tattoo, what is it?”

“It’s a snake,” Marie says, going back to kneading. “A black snake on his chest.”

“Thank you,” Louis gives her a small smile as he walks out. He reaches the table, picks up his tea, and downs it all in one go. Then he snaps his finger at Liam. “I know who killed Alice.”

\-----

Liam drives slowly through the town, following every traffic rule with the same caution that someone taking a driver's ed test would. 

Louis props his feet up on the dashboard and fishes his recorder out of his pocket. He clicks the button loudly. "Helen, it seems that Robert Styles is good for this. He's got that tattoo, he's got a pattern of violence against women and he just looks like a total knob. Oh, and Helen, please do remind me to go back to Rosie for a cuppa, it was simply delicious."

He clicks the button and shoves the recorder back into his pocket. Liam clears his throat awkwardly. "So, uh, how do you know about this tattoo?"

"I saw it in a dream," Louis admits. He hates admitting these things to people, that he just knows things. He trains his gaze out the window, watching as the people outside bustle about. "Sometimes, I dream things and they come true. Sometimes I just… know things." 

"What?" 

Louis rolls his eyes, keeping his gaze trained to the sights outside his window, letting his words sink in for Liam, not really feeling up to explaining himself any further. “I know we should just go arrest him right now, but we don’t have any probable cause.”

“He used to beat his bird, though,” Liam says, gaze trained on the road. “He has the tattoo, isn’t that enough?”

“You think that’ll hold up in court?” Louis snorts. “Sorry, we knew he did it because I had a vision of him attacking someone and saw his chest tattoo? No, we need a confession or evidence that his alibi is shot.”

“What if he wasn’t lying?” Liam asks suddenly. 

“What?”

“What if he didn’t leave his room, like he said? What if that’s where he killed her?”

“We would need something more than just my vision to prove that. I don’t know whose room it happened in,” Louis clears his throat uncomfortably, gaze shifting down to his lap where he plays with a loose fiber on his jacket sleeve. “Besides, it wasn’t Alice he was attacking in my vision.”

“What the fuck!” Liam curses, almost driving into the car in front of him as they land on a red light. “You’ve been withholding that very important piece of information from me this whole time?”

“The second attack hasn’t happened yet,” Louis says calmly, or as calmly as he can considering the case they’re on. “I’ve warned the potential victim, though.”

“Who is it?” Liam demands, his hands clenching the wheel as he starts driving again.

“I can’t tell you that,” Louis says it firmly. He’s not going to say anything yet, as he can’t guarantee that the attack will even happen. His dreams don’t always come true. He’s warned Harry about it, so that could be the action that makes the attack not happen, at least that’s what Louis hopes for. 

Liam huffs out a sigh, calling Louis a wanker under his breath, and Louis pretends he doesn’t hear it. Instead, he turns his attention back onto people watching through his window. 

\-----

They're pouring through the autopsy trying to find anything that could link Alice to the hotel, anything at all as a clue.

Louis thinks it's a little pointless. They know who killed her, they should be trying to get a confession, or something.

He gets up from his seat. "Well, gentlemen, I'm off to the Lodge. I'm gonna look around a bit, ask some questions."

Zayn just gives a wave, reading through one of the files. Liam gives a smile. "Call us if you find anything."

"I will," Louis replies before walking out of the room.

The tension between those two is palpable. He really hopes they get it out of their system soon.

He takes his time driving, trying to enjoy the day. It's hard in this line of work, but he always tries to enjoy the little things.

They don't have Yorkshire tea at the Lodge, and he just buries the disappointment, reaching for the good coffee he'd tried the day before.

Harry finds him there, sitting at the same table as before and sits down across from him. "Hey, Detective."

"Hello, Harry."

Harry gives him a cheeky smile as he steals a sip of his coffee. "This is not too bad."

"You hated it yesterday," Louis reminds him.

Harry shrugs. "It's better now."

Louis smiles, he can tell that he's lying but he doesn't mind it. He appreciates the company.

He grabs his mug back, taking a long sip. "Have you seen your uncle around here today?"

"Yeah," Harry nods, then gestures somewhere behind him. "He's fixing a leak in the toilets. He's a bit sulky these days."

"How so?"

"I don't know," Harry replies. "Just on edge, I guess."

Louis just hums, enjoying his coffee. He files that small bit of information somewhere in his mind.

It wouldn't be out of place for Rob to be on edge. He did just murder a girl, after all.

He's not about to tell Harry that, though.

"So, Louis," Harry begins, leaning forward. "I was wondering… do you feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"This?" Harry gestures between them. "Us. I feel like I've known you, like I'm meant to know you somehow. I don't know, I just… feel connected to you."

"Harry," Louis clears his throat, taking a long look around them to make sure they are alone. "You can't say stuff like this in public. No one knows I'm bent."

"So you do feel it?" Harry asks, persistent.

Louis can't help but just to stare at him. He has nothing to say, is the thing. He's been feeling a connection since the moment they met. Something brewing between them, something electric.

He's had to stop himself from staring, from touching, from remarking on it. And yet here Harry is, sitting in front of him, fearlessly confronting it, like it's no big deal.

Like people don't hate men like them. Like his friends haven't all died from a disease that ripped through their community like a wave.

He shakes himself out of it. "Meet me in my room in half an hour."

Then he leaves the dining hall.

\-----

He's pacing the room.

He's nervous. Very nervous.

This is the first time he's about to act on his desires. He's about to let himself feel the want constantly churning through his veins.

The last time he ever did so was back in Doncaster, with a boy from the football team. They'd made out in secret, lost their virginities in secret, both having girlfriends, both popular in school.

Louis still thinks fondly of Hannah, glad that she had been supportive, more than supportive even when he'd had the guts to tell her why he refused to have sex with her.

He wishes Scot had had the same experience. He sometimes wonders what happened to him after he got chased out of town by homophobic assholes.

He's taken off his suit jacket and tie, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, making him look a bit more casual.

There's a knock on the door, and Louis takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he moves to open the door.

Harry's early. Of course, he is.

He doesn't hesitate. He closes the door behind him and cups Louis' face. His hands are cold, the skin soft.

They take some time, just staring at each other. Louis could get lost in those eyes forever if Harry would let him. He moves his hand up to cup Harry's face, using his thumb to stroke over his cheekbone. His skin is so delicate, and-

He doesn't know who leaned in first, just that they're kissing now.

Harry tastes like salt and something that must be entirely him. There's a hint of cigarette in his breath, as if he went out for a smoke before he came here.

Louis lets himself get lost in it, get lost in the divine twist of Harry's tongue in his mouth.

\-----

Harry is straddling him, sitting on his lap, his arms around his shoulders. Louis keeps stroking up and down his arms, his back.

They've been kissing for a while. He doesn't know how they aren't tired yet, but he doesn't want to stop.

Harry pulls back, his lips are swollen red, slick with saliva. Louis can't help himself and plants one more kiss to the corner of his mouth, making Harry smile.

"I'm not ready to have sex with you," Harry says, biting his lip.

Louis takes his hands and brings them to his mouth, kissing the tips of his fingers. He smiles. "That's alright. I wasn't planning on having sex tonight. I'm a taking it slow kind of bloke."

Harry huffs out a laugh, leaning in for another kiss. "I should get back to my room."

"You should," Louis agrees, though he doesn't let go of him. Doesn't really want to. He's a bit sweet on him already.

Harry doesn’t move out of his lap either, instead leaning in for a tight hug. Louis closes his eyes, leaning his face into Harry’s hair. It feels soft on his face, and he enjoys inhaling the smell of him. He’s a little sweaty, but Louis doesn’t mind it, kind of just enjoys it.

Harry moves out of his lap, giving him a peck on the shoulder. “I really have to leave now, I have the first shift at the front desk in the morning.”

“Alright, darling,” Louis replies. 

He walks him to the door, and after Harry’s gone, an ache appears in his chest.

He hates that he misses him already.

\-----

He shoots up and out of bed, completely soaked with sweat. He glances at the clock, chest heaving. It’s 4:00 AM.

He wipes his face with his hands, though it doesn’t do anything. He’s sweaty everywhere.

The dream. 

_ Harry. _

He scrambles out of bed, shirtless and wearing only pyjama bottoms. 

Saving Harry is the priority.

The dream was from Rob’s perspective. He could feel his emotions, feel his sensations. His rage. The way his hands had felt, choking Harry, the man he’s rapidly falling in love with. He heaves, running into the bathroom to vomit.

He grabs his gun, and runs out of the room.

The floor is cold, the chill seeping into his bare feet as he runs up the stairs.

He hears a thud in Harry’s room, and he busts open the door, kicking it as hard as he can. He ignores the pain in his leg and trains his loaded gun on Rob, who looks up in surprise, his hands still on Harry’s neck.

“Get off him,” Louis clicks the safety off, showing how serious he is. “ _ Now. _ ” 

Harry’s unconscious on the floor, and Louis wants nothing more than to go to him. He realises he forgot his handcuffs back at his hotel room. 

He trains his eyes on Rob. “Sit down on the bed and keep your hands up, I will not hesitate to shoot you if you move.”

Grabbing the phone on Harry’s desk, he calls the police station. 

The phone is squashed between his shoulder and his ear, as he keeps both hands on the gun, trained at Rob’s head.

“This is Captain Payne speaking, how can I help you?” 

“Liam,” Louis starts. Rob moves. “I said don’t _ fucking  _ move.”

Rob just smirks, but doesn’t move.

“You need to get over here right now,” Louis hisses through his teeth at Liam. “I’ve got Rob. He attacked Harry in his room.”

Then he lets the phone fall to the floor, not waiting for a response. He knows Liam will be here as soon as possible.

“So,” He starts, eyeing Rob. “Nice tattoo.”

Rob cocks his head in confusion. He’s wearing a shirt. 

“You’re wondering how I know,” Louis smirks. “Let’s just say Alice told me.”

“So Alice shagged you, too, huh?” Rob spits out venomously. “I knew she was a slag.” 

“No,” Louis shakes his head. “I’ve never met her. But thank you for confirming your connection to her, Rob.”

“That’s entrapment!”

Harry groans on the floor, waking up. Louis doesn’t look down at him, just keeps his eyes trained on Rob.

“Are you okay, Harry?” Louis asks.

“Yeah,” Harry rasps out. “I told you so. I told you that you’d save me.”

Louis shakes his head fondly. 

Liam appears at the door, panting. He handcuffs Rob and Louis gratefully puts his gun down. He turns to Harry, dragging him into a tight hug. “You’re okay?”

“I am,” Harry confirms, voice still raspy. “I’m okay.”

Liam is waiting at the door, Louis shakes his head at him. “You can deal with Rob, I’ll get Harry’s statement.”

“Right-o,” Liam gives a smile before he disappears with Rob.

He helps Harry up, putting an arm around his waist to guide him. “What do you want, Haz?”

“Can we go to your room?” Harry asks, staring down at the floor. “I don’t wanna be in here anymore.”

He guides Harry down the hall and towards the stairs, never lets go of his waist as they make their way to his room. 

His bed is a mess when they walk in, the duvet halfway onto the floor, and sheets all crumpled up. Harry sits down on it anyway, grabbing the duvet and wrapping it around himself. Louis sits down next to him, and Harry leans on him, his head resting on his shoulder. 

“You can ask.”

“What happened?” 

“He was looking for something,” Harry starts, fidgeting with a loose string on the duvet. “I think he thought I knew he was seeing Alice, which, gross.”

“Yeah, very gross,” Louis agrees softly.

“I think he was looking for drugs, or something like that,” Harry says. “I don’t know. I just know that as soon as he said Alice’s name, I knew he did it. He killed her.”

He starts crying, the shock starting to wear off. “He  _ killed _ her… my best friend.”

Louis just strokes up and down his side, not saying anything. He knows Harry just needs the support right now. 

The sobs wrack his chest, and he wheezes. 

Louis just hugs him until the tears stop coming, and the sobs calm down. He gets him a glass of water, and Harry gulps it all down.

He waits until Harry is fully asleep, tucked unto the duvet with all the pillows.

Glancing at the clock, he can see it’s now 8:00 AM. it doesn’t feel like four hours have gone by since he woke up.

He calls the police station. 

\-------

After he’s completely dressed up in his suit, he goes down to the front desk, where Gemma is looking pretty tired. She waves him over, and he gives her a strained smile. “Do you know where Harry is? Bloody fucker didn’t show up for his shift.”

Louis sighs. He hates breaking the news to loved ones. “He’s up in my room. He got attacked earlier this morning.”

“Attacked?” Gemma exclaims, immediately closing up the desk. “What happened?”

“Your uncle, Robert, choked him,” Louis says. “He’s okay. He’s sleeping right now, I was just about to find you actually, to ask if you could go up and stay with him.”

She nods, hugging him quickly. “Thank you.” 

She takes the key from him and runs upstairs.

Now that he’s told her, he makes his way outside to his car. 

He’s got a long day ahead of him.

\-----

As soon as he walks into the station, Zayn drags him into the interrogation room, where they stand behind the mirror. “He confessed almost as soon as Liam threatened him with life in prison.”

“Liam can’t threaten anything, nor can he make any deals,” Louis replies. 

Zayn smiles. “We know.”

“Good job,” Louis says, before he joins Liam in the interrogation room. 

Liam gives a serious nod, sitting silently at the table.

Robert Styles is scribbling his confession down on a piece of paper. 

Louis gives him a look and clears his throat. “Make sure to add what you were looking for in Harry Styles’s room.”

Rob grunts, but doesn’t say anything. 

“You’ve already been told to call your lawyer, I presume?”

Rob grunts again. 

Liam looks up at him. “He refused his lawyer.”

“Alright.”

This day would be a lot easier then, Louis thinks.

“It seems you’ve got it all under control, then,” Louis remarks. “I’ll go back to the Lodge then, check on the lad.”

“Tell him to hang in there,” Liam says at his back as he leaves.

He pats Zayn on the shoulder before he gestures at Liam. “He feels the same. Go for it.”

Zayn gapes at him, like he’s been smacked in the face. Louis chuckles. “I’ll call to have him transferred to London for a trial, then he’ll be out of your hands.”

“Thank you.”

He leaves. 

\-----

Harry’s awake when he gets to his room, eyeing up the box of donuts that Louis in one hand and coffee in the other. He brought three coffees, correctly assuming that Gemma would still be there.

“Hey, Harry,” Louis smiles. “Rob confessed.”

“He did?” Gemma asks, eyebrows furrowing. “I still have a hard time believing that my  _ uncle _ , of all people, was the one to kill my brother’s best friend.”

“He was sleeping with her, too,” Harry says, taking his coffee gratefully. Sipping at it immediately.

“Ew,” Gemma wrinkles her nose. “He was, like, fifty.”

“Yeah,” Harry chuckles dryly. “But you know Alice, she always went for the older blokes.”

Gemma just mimics vomiting. 

Louis agrees with her. He hands her a cup and she takes it with a smile. He then deposits the box of donuts on the bed and opens it up. There are ten donuts in the box, plenty enough for all three of them. Harry takes a chocolate one, humming appreciatively at the taste. 

Gemma just grabs one at random and bites into it. “Hmm, apple custard.”

Louis grabs a jelly one for himself. 

They sit in silence as they eat, and the silence is comfortable. There’s not much to say, anyway. 

He’s on his third donut when Harry clears his throat. “So, what happens now?”

“Well,” Louis finishes his chewing. “My job here is done, but I was thinking of taking some time off, stay here a while, maybe go down to Donny and see my family.”

“You wanna stay in  _ Holmes Chapel? _ ” Gemma asks, baffled. “This town is  _ boring _ .”

“I don’t really know,” Louis replies, eyes straying towards Harry. “I think there’s something worth exploring.”

\-----


End file.
